


There Is No Choice To Make (I'll Always Choose You)

by hope27



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Friendship/Love, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-01-03 14:32:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope27/pseuds/hope27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Season 2 drabbles.  Originally posted to tumblr.</p><p>UPDATED Chapter 10: let me in the walls you built around (2x13 drabble) - After Sara's mother is kidnapped by the League in an attempt to get her back, Felicity reveals something about her own past to Oliver.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. you know it all, every look and smile that aren't meant to break

**Author's Note:**

> I decided instead of just having them all on tumblr where I know they get lost amongst that posts, this would be easy and helpful for me to keep track of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on 2x02. 
> 
> Just an episode filler that hit me as I watched the episode. I wanted to touch on a few things that came from the episode, and I wanted to see just how Oliver dealt with Tommy’s death being rehashed with Laurel and her rampage against the vigilante. Anyway, here’s what came.

It was late by the time she returned to the club, freshly showered and in more comfortable clothes than the dress she had on earlier. She hadn’t bothered to dry her hair, and if fell in waves around her shoulders. While Diggle had dropped her off a few hours ago, she still had a few things she wanted to go over with the Triad still on the loose.. 

Oliver had been furious at the interruption of the police, headed up, ironically, by Laurel. But Felicity had let her own temper get the better of her, tired of Oliver refusing to see the pain on his own friend’s face. 

When she’d caught him around the wrist, she’d felt him tense and knew adrenaline still pumped through his veins. But instead of flashing with anger, his eyes looked at her with confusion. He’d glanced between her hand where it lay, fingers curled into his arm, to her face. 

Oliver’s complete confusion at everything she was saying did nothing to calm her. She knew he’d been running ragged trying to balance being the CEO of Queen Consolidated and be the vigilante 2.0. 

Before the Glades fell, he hadn’t slept well she’d known. But now, he looked like sleep evaded him even more. 

Her shower had calmed her frazzled emotions from the day. Her new role as Oliver’s “secretary” still didn’t sit well with her. To her, it was a demotion from what she’d been doing; her skill-set was valuable and she’d been at the top her class at MIT, not to mention playing an important role in the IT department. There was a reason some of the top executives came to her with their problems. Because she was damn good at her job.

Getting coffee and making appointments was not her skill set. She could do it, but it wasn’t her passion.

What hurt even more was Oliver’s confusion at her sudden anger when he’d told her. In his view, he needed her and that was reason enough to give her a new job.

It was the knowledge of that “need” that had her fighting back the ire that continued to rise within her. And slowly, it was ebbing. Being able to interact with Oliver so easily did take a weight off her shoulders. She didn’t have to constantly worry about making up excuses for him showing up at her office. No one took a second glance when they exited the building together and got into his town car. It was expected. She was his secretary…personal assistant - yes that sounded a little better. 

Felicity wasn’t surprised to find the foundry dark when she entered. Her flats were almost silent as she descended the stairs and found the breaker switch.

Flipping it, the room was splashed in a bluish light as the computer’s hummed to life.

She’d taken three steps when she saw him, and a wave of deja vu hit her hard. Walter. The casino. Finding out he was dead. Oliver learning his mother was involved in everything.

Oliver sat with his back against one of the concrete pillars, staring blankly ahead. He was still dressed in his gear, his bow resting to the side of him, quiver thrown across the nearest table. Green paint was still smeared across his face, but he’d pulled his hood back.

Felicity felt the day’s emotions come crashing down upon her, and she took a deep, steadying breath. 

She didn’t hesitate. With slow, steady steps, she crossed the concrete floor and didn’t stop until she was right next to him.

He didn’t verbally acknowledge her presence, but she saw his shoulders sink as he let out a soft puff of air.

Pulling her purse off her shoulder, she put her back to the wall and sank down beside him, glad she’d exchanged her tight dress for more comfortable yoga pants. Oliver remained silent, his arms lying listlessly on his knees. 

There was a weight in the air between them that she didn’t like. Over the past few days, they’d been at odds with each other on one thing or another. Something deep within her needed to relieve that pressure, and so she did it the only way she knew how.

“You know Diggle thought I was crazy when I told him I wanted to remodel this place. He didn’t see the point. It was a while after you’d left and he’d just broken up with Carly…” she trailed off and felt biceps twitch where her arm was pressed up against his. “It was harder for him than he would admit, and I needed something to do. Anything to take my mind off the sleepless nights and the guilt I felt every time the news talked about the 503…”

She swallowed hard. This was the first time she’d allowed herself to actually speak all of these things aloud. 

His hands balled into fists, but he made no other movement.

“I know you didn’t want to come back,” she continued, her voice growing quieter as she stared at his hands, resisting the urge to reach out and cover them with her own. “I know this is hard, but…it was hard here too. Really hard, Oliver…”

A tear slipped down her cheek and she hastily wiped it away, refusing to cry one more time over it.

His fingers uncurled and twitched and she had a momentary thought that he might reach out to her. When he didn’t, she continued, noticing the twitch in his jaw.

“I’m not telling you this to add to all that guilt you carry around, Oliver,” she explained softly. “I just…it’s been hard and now things are different but the same. And I’m trying to keep up with everything while waiting for everything to fall apart again…”

The ragged breath that left his lips was unexpected and made her shiver, feeling the way it was pulled from his entire body.

“I am too,” he confessed, throatily, his voice hoarse and broken, and her heart clenched. “I don’t know how to be everything I need to be…”

She nodded. “You’re learning though,” she replied easily. “We’re all learning. I don’t know how to be an executive assistant - and don’t fight me on the name, Queen…I’m not your secretary. But you want me there, so I’ll be there…”

It wasn’t quite a laugh that escaped his lips, but she’d take it. When one of his large hands covered hers twisted together in her lap, her eyes shot to him and she stilled.

Blue beneath the green met hers and the raw grief flitting through his gaze caused her to gasp softly. 

Beyond the grief, she saw the honesty and gratitude he was trying to convey to her. 

“I know you’re overqualified and you probably deserve to be sitting behind my desk instead, but all I know, is I need you close by. Having you sit by me in those meetings with Isabel…I didn’t feel quite so alone.”

The breath caught in her throat and she bit her bottom lip to keep the tears rising unbidden to her eyes at bay. 

She nodded through bleary eyes. “You’re not alone, Oliver. You know that.”

His lips curved into a small, sad smile for the first time since she’d found him, and he regarded her for a long moment.

“No, I’m not. You’re right.”

She smiled as she turned her hand in his and squeezed it tight. “You wanna talk about why you’re sitting down here with the lights off yet?”

His gaze began to shutter almost immediately, but she resisted taking the words back. If this team was going to work, especially with the overlap in their secret and professional lives, they were going to have to let each other in - even when it was hard.

The silence drew out between them and Felicity clamped down on the urge to fill it. She would wait until he was ready.

Finally, he drew in a long breath and let out again, releasing her hand and dragging it through his hair. Titling his head back against the wall, he began to speak. 

“I went to try to talk to Laurel,” he began, eyes slipping shut in remembered pain. “I thought if she’d hear from the vigilante herself, then maybe she’d stop this manhunt…that I could get her to see what I was trying to do…”

Felicity swallowed, not liking where this was going. Over the past few months, she’d seen Laurel speaking on tv and her need for vengeance where the vigilante was concerned. 

“She brought up Tommy,” he murmured, and she could see the muscle cord and bunch along his neck. 

At the name, she stilled beside him, holding her breath.

“She saw me leave…said that I didn’t save him. That I was too busy fighting the other archer…”

She heard the frayed ends of his control slip as he spoke and without thinking, she extended a hand to his arm, rubbing light circles against the sensitive skin of his forearm.

"Oh, Oliver," Felicity breathed, hating to see him relive this all over again.

Despite her lingering anger at some of his recent choices, her heart went out to him.

"She’s right. I didn’t save him. I couldn’t…" His voice broke off and his brow bunched together as she felt the muscles beneath her fingers tighten to the point of straining.

"Don’t do this to yourself again, Oliver," she whispered raggedly. "You can’t go back and change anything. It does no good to relive it day after day. Your heart can’t take it.

She swallowed tightly before continuing. ”And she’s wrong.”

Oliver’s head rolled to the side then, eyes fixing on hers and holding them steadily. Confusion filter through his features and she fought the urge to reach up and smooth out the worry lines on his brow.

"Tommy’s death was not your fault," she explained with a sudden spark of determination. He needed to hear this - take it in once and for all. "And I get that you feel that way, but you didn’t cause the Glades to fall. You didn’t force Malcolm to make the decision he did. You didn’t force any of those business men to back him. You didn’t tell Laurel to go back down to CNRI that night, and you didn’t tell Tommy to go after her. They did all of that of their own free will. You’re not responsible for the actions and consequences of others. You tried to stop it. You did everything you could to end it before it even began. You risked your life for the people of this city and they will never know that, and it makes me so mad every time they start to bad mouth you, but I have to keep quiet. Because you’re a good man, Oliver Queen. Not to say that sometimes you don’t make stupid decisions and you definitely need to work on your communication and discussion skills, but, deep down, you’re a good man, or I wouldn’t still be here."

When she finally took a breath, she realized she’d been rambling again, but this time, it felt necessary. And instead of flush of embarrassment, she held his gaze and pleaded with him to hear her.

His eyes trailed over her face, leaving tendrils of heat from just his stare. After a few minutes, he began to shake his head.

"I have no idea why you stay," he murmured, and she dropped her eyes to where her hand lay over his leather jacket.

"Because I believe in what you’re doing. I believe in you." She confessed quietly.

One large hand cupped her cheek, pulling her gaze to his. ”Thank you,” he breathed.

His hand ran from her cheek down her neck and to her shoulder before following her arm to the hand that rested over his jacket.

"And I am sorry," he added, eyes still locked with hers.

Felicity frowned.

"I should have asked you about the job - made sure it was okay with you. That’s probably why I didn’t in all honesty," he admitted. "I was afraid you’d say no and then…I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. I don’t trust anyone else in that seat next to me."

The last few strands of anger she felt dissipated with his words and she sagged, half of her weight ending up against his shoulder.

"I’m not going to lie and tell you I’m completely fine with suddenly being an EA when I’ve hacked into all of the major federal databases, but for you…for this city…I will do it." Her voice was quiet but her eyes never strayed from his.

Some of the darkness in his eyes cleared, and she saw the small pull of a smile on his face. ”I’ll make it up to you, somehow.”

Felicity huffed. ”I expect nothing less,” she remarked, a small smile play on her own lips. ”But don’t expect me to keep my mouth shut if someone starts asking me to be at their beck and call…I meant what I said earlier. I didn’t study the secretarial arts at MIT, and I’m not saying it’s not an important position, but computers have and always will be my passion.”

Oliver squeezed her hand. ”And I’ll do my best to make sure no one treats you like that,” he promised.

She felt a small flutter in her chest at his vehement tone. One of the many things she’d learned since coming to know Oliver was that he was fiercely protective of those he cared for around him. So she knew he spoke the truth.

Comfortable silence descended upon them and while she was more than content to sit next to him in this place that felt more like her home than her own apartment, the concrete was cold beneath her and her muscles began to spasm and protest the hard surface.

Just when she was about to shift, she heard him speak again, so softly that she had to strain to understand his words.

"I’ll try to do better with you guys as well," he remarked, and she felt his eyes fall to her face once more. "Sometimes I forget that you were left here to deal with everything while I ran…and I didn’t realize the consequences you both were facing."

This confession had tears pricking the back of her eyes, and she blinked them back, taking in a deep breath.

"I know I was hard on you…I just needed you to listen. Diggle wasn’t going to say anything and Oliver - you have no idea how hard that was on him. We didn’t go to Big Belly for weeks and it just felt wrong. But he was adamant about his choice. He’s carrying this weight on his shoulders with Deadshot still out there."

She turned to him then, her hand on his arm, gripping tighter. ”We have to help him, Oliver. So he can move on with his life…”

Oliver nodded once. ”And we will.”

Felicity sighed in relief at the automatic answer. ”Good.”

A yawn escaped her lips and he smiled. “You should get some sleep.”

“Already tried. Plus, I need to do a few more scans before I call it a night,” she began, and she tried to get her body to move, but she was suddenly very tired.

“They can wait, Felicity,” he told her easily, and her shoulders sagged as she yawned again.

“Okay,” she murmured, deciding she didn’t want to fight anymore. 

When he didn’t move to get up, she remained as well, her head tilting to the side and finding his shoulder.

“I don’t mind sitting doing this instead,” she added after a few moments, her voice barely.

Oliver said nothing, but she felt him relax even more, and she tried not to start when his head fell atop hers.

Suddenly, the cold and uncomfortable floor didn’t matter anymore. Letting the tension ease from her spine, she closed her eyes and breathed in, his scent surrounding her.

Everything wasn’t okay. There were still things to discuss and hash out, but for right now, this was more than enough.


	2. i'm not letting go, you hold the other line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a speculation drabble based on promos we got for Episode 2x03. 
> 
> What if the Dollmaker case and subsequent mission led to their first hug?

A low, predatory growl permeated the alleyway as the police swarmed it, cutting off his access to Barton. Every fiber of his being wanted to find the man and put an arrow in him for what he did to women and what he’d just done to Felicity. He cursed under his breath and knew he was going to have a few pointed words with Lance about this one.

Before the cops could make another move towards him, he leaped up, grabbing the fire-escape and nimbly scaled the wall of the old building. Shouts and at least one gun shot was heard before Lance’s voice boomed over the others.

“Hold your fire,” he yelled, and by that time, Oliver was on the roof and already leaping across a few more.

Her ragged breathing came across the comms and grabbed his attention. Terror rolled through his gut and he pushed himself even faster.

“Felicity?!” he questioned, concern evident in his voice, but he didn’t care.

There was no reply for a second, and his stomach dropped. He’d seen her get away - running towards the car that Diggle had parked up the street. What if she hadn’t made it…

“She’s okay, Oliver,” Digg replied, calming his fears, but Oliver still needed to hear her say it; see her whole and in one piece.

He hadn’t liked the idea from the start. When she’d told him about it, he’d quickly refused to let her do it. But she’d stood her ground, eyes flashing with that same fire they held everytime she got passionate about something. He knew he wouldn’t be able to talk her out of it.

Jumping down a few levels to reach a different fire escape, he clambered up it to another roof, and saw the top of Verdant. 

“Felicity, talk to me, please,” he gritted out, and he heard a soft sob, and he pushed himself harder.

“I’m okay, Oliver,” she replied in a shaky whisper, but he could tell she was far from that.

Two more buildings and an alleyway and then he was sprinting along the shadows, keeping away from the streetlights as he approached the club. He spotted the car parked in the back lot and quickly made his way to the entrance that led to the basement.

Punching in the code, he pushed through the door and raced down the steps. The blue lights lit up the main area and he spotted her, hands folded across her chest as she sat atop the medical table. Diggle was looking at a gash on her arm, but he stopped when he felt her still. 

Her eyes found his and the vice grip on his heart abated some at seeing her whole and alive. The tear stains on her cheeks and the torn ends of her blouse showed that she wasn’t completely okay though.

Oliver wasted no time, crossing the room in quick, measured steps until he was right in front of her. Diggle moved to the side as he reached for her and with a heaving sob, she collapsed against his chest. Her arms wound around his neck and he lifted her from the table, so every inch of her was pressed against him.

He felt her tears hot on his neck as she buried her head there.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered brokenly, over and over into his skin. “I’m so sorry. I thought I could help…I thought…I’m sorry…”

He hushed her, running gloved hands up to her hair and trailing his fingers through it. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he told her, his voice gruff and uneven. “You’re okay, that’s all that matters.”

She let out a shuddering sigh and he felt her relax against him. Pulling back, he set her gently on the ground, his hands holding tight to her hips as he looked her over. There was a small scratch along her temple, and the gash on her arm. Her hair was mussed and falling out of her half-updo as she looked at him tiredly. His hands trailed down her arms to lace with her fingers, and he saw her wince when they grazed over her upper arms.

Frowning, he pushed up the loose sleeves of her blouse and anger boiled in him at the angry red marks imprinted into her arms. 

“I’m okay,” she whispered, and noticed that she had tightened her hold on his hands. 

He let out a shaky breath, pushing aside the anger for later, and focusing on her. He knew he was going to have to get used to it - her being out in the field more - constantly being put in danger. Somehow, he knew he’d never be completely okay with it. But it was going to happen. And, whether he liked it or not, he was going to have to deal. 

For deep down, he just knew if anything ever did happen to her - it would break him all over again. The pieces of his heart she was so carefully helping to reconstruct and heal would be shattered and he would come apart without her by his side.

“You two about done so I can finish?” Digg asked from behind them, and he raised his head, glowering at the man’s knowing smile.

She let out a soft squeal when released her hands and found her hips, lifting her back onto the table.

“Oliver!” she reprimanded him lightly, some of the light filtering back into her sad eyes.

He smiled at her before brushing an errant tear from her cheek. “You’re okay?” he asked again, needing to know; needing to hear and see her say it.

She caught his hand in hers. “Yeah, I will be,” she replied, and then Digg was in front of her again, applying a bandage to her forearm, but she twined her fingers with his and held on tight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, for an AMAZING first part to this, please go read anthfan's beautiful drabble about Oliver finding out about this case which can be found [HERE](http://anthfan.tumblr.com/post/63510249402/2x03-drabble).


	3. Here for You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post 2x03 drabble.
> 
> After the Dollmaker experience, Felicity doesn't want to go home.

It’s late by the time Oliver returned to the Foundry. 

 

He’d long since told Felicity and Diggle to go home. Felicity had begun to argue with him and then just stopped. That more than anything worried him. Since when did Felicity not speak her mind? 

 

They’d barely had a moment to regroup after she’d gotten away from Mathis, who’d figured out she was a set up. By the time he’d gotten back to the club, she was already sitting at her desk again, typing away furiously. He’d glanced at Diggle who’d given him a look that told him she was far from okay, but that she wasn’t talking.

 

He’d never liked this idea in the first place - using Felicity as bait. The idea of her in unnecessary danger left a ball of knots in his stomach. But she and Lance had talked him into it - declaring it to be the best option they had to capturing him. 

 

Before he could do more than ask her if she was okay, she’d spun in her chair, her face pale. 

 

“He’s got her…Laurel…”

 

Oliver’s mind immediately scattered in two different warring directions. The hollowed look in Felicity’s eyes haunted him, but he knew he had to try and help Lance with Laurel. And from what he saw in Felicity’s gaze, she needed to as well.

 

“Go,” she urged him, her voice stronger than it had been seconds prior. “Go get her. He’s a monster, Oliver. GO!”

 

And then he was running in the opposite direction, and it only took a moment before he heard the comm link click back on and Felicity voice in his ear. Her normally steady tone wavered ever so slightly and her whole way of speaking was off, but he couldn’t dwell on it right then. 

 

It had taken longer than he would have liked, but they found her - before Mathis could do any damage. He’d apparently wanted Quentin there to watch, and that alone made ice run through Oliver’s veins. 

 

While daughter and father reunited, he’d slipped out, knowing he couldn’t and wouldn’t approach her as Arrow. The venom was still very much present in her eyes when she’d seen him appear. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach that her opinion would never really change. Even if she knew. Even if she knew everything. She’d still have issues with what he did. The risks he took. The laws he sometimes broke. His past that weighed on him so heavily at times he could barely breathe. 

 

It would all be too much for her. She’d always try to see the old Oliver. Or compare him to Tommy. And both of those were things he couldn’t bear.

 

He’d gruffly told Diggle and Felicity to head home before pulling out his comm link. 

 

But now that he’d returned to a dark Foundry, an odd sensation ran through him at seeing the places normally occupied by two of his closest friends empty.

 

He was surprised to find he craved their company. The companionship they offered him was something he hadn’t realized he had missed when he’d gone back to the island until it was too late. There were times when he wondered if he would even know how to function as the vigilante anymore without them.

 

He dressed quickly, donning his suit and tie before heading up the stairs and out to his motorcycle. The drive to QC was filled with various flashes from the evening. But the one that kept sticking in his head was Felicity, terrified, with Mathis’s arms wrapped around her. 

 

He almost switched directions and headed to her apartment, but decided against it. If she might be getting some much needed rest, then he shouldn’t interrupt.

 

The need to see Felicity only grew as he parked in the private garage and headed up the executive elevator. He’d give himself an hour to work. If the need to see her hadn’t abated, he’d run by her apartment and climb up her fire escape. He just needed to see that she was okay. 

 

When the elevator dinged open, he stepped out and abruptly came to a halt. Through the glass walls that lead to his office, he saw Felicity sitting at her desk. Her hair was once again pulled back into her usual ponytail, and her glasses had replaced the contacts. Diggle stood off to the side, just far enough away to not be considered hovering, but he wore a worried look on his face.

 

Noticing his friend’s expression, his eyes flew back to Felicity, taking in her appearance. She appeared deep in thought about whatever was on her screen. The cap of her pen poised against her fuschia lips. To anyone else, nothing would seem amiss. 

 

Then he saw it. The slight tremor that ran through her hand, and his eyes narrowed in concern.

 

He was moving in seconds, his feet carrying him through the glass doors and into her office.

 

She looked up almost immediately, her eyes widening before flying to Digg and back again.

 

Oliver wrinkled his brow. “What are you doing here? I told you to go home.”

 

She huffed out a breath, and looked at him dubiously. “Working…just like you came to do, I imagine.”

 

“Felicity,” he sighed, rubbing a hand through his already mussed hair. “It’s almost midnight. Go home. Get some rest. You’ve had a long day…”

 

At his words, her eyes flashed, emotions from panic to fear to sadness and anger crossing her features in less than a heartbeat. 

 

“I just have a few more things to finish,” she replied hoarsely, her lips set in a thin line.

 

Oliver glanced to Diggle who just shook his head imperceptibly. That was all he needed to understand that he’d tried to get her to go home, but she wasn’t budging. Oliver sent an appreciative look back, thanking him for staying with her.

 

When his eyes returned to Felicity, he noticed her tense posture, and the way her one leg kept fidgeting under her desk. She was far from alright.

 

“Felicity,” he tried again, his voice softer, and he watched as she stilled.

 

Crossing around the side of the desk, he looked down at her. “Hey, are you okay?”

 

She swallowed, blinking rapidly, but didn’t reply. Her jaw trembled almost imperceptibly, and his heart ached.

 

Her fingers had stilled over the keys, and, with a gentleness he rarely showed anyone, he covered them and clasped them in his own.

 

Even when he turned her in her chair, she still refused to meet his gaze. 

 

“Felicity,” he almost whispered, kneeling down so he was at her level. 

 

Squeezing her hands, he urged her to look at him. “Hey…talk to me.”

 

Those words were her undoing. 

 

A soft gasp filled the air around them and she began to shake her head. “No…No, I’m not okay. I’m…not…”

 

She screwed her eyes shut and inhaled sharply. Oliver watched her - a heaviness settling in his chest.

 

“You’re okay,” he whispered, one hand leaving her own and traveling up her arm and around to the back of her neck. 

 

His thumb stroked the sensitive skin under her ear and he felt her shiver. Blinking open teary eyes, she looked at him. 

 

“I’m sorry…” she mumbled. “I shouldn’t be crying. I wasn’t even taken. Not like Laurel…I’m going to stop. This is ridiculous.”

 

She tried to stand, but he stood with her and blocked her attempt to get around him. Her hand was still firmly clasped in his own.

 

Oliver sighed, hating that this had left her so shaken. Mathis, in so many ways, deserved the end of an arrow. But it wasn’t his call to make anymore. He’d been caught, and he couldn’t hurt anyone anymore.

 

Except the damage to Felicity had already been done.

 

“It’s not ridiculous to be afraid,” he told her solemnly, and she stopped trying to get past him and found his gaze.

 

That dull, hollow look was back and it scared him. Letting go of her hands, he cupped her cheeks, wiping away the tears spilling down.

 

“It’s okay to feel this way,” he repeated because she looked as if she didn’t believe him.

 

He saw something flare to life within her blue eyes and then she was talking, as if he’d flipped some kind of switch inside her and suddenly she needed to get everything out.

 

“I’m scared. I am. I don’t want to go home because going home means being by myself and I can still feel his hands on me. I can still hear his voice in my head and the screams of those other girls, and that could have been me, Oliver…it could have been…” she gasped for breath, a hiccuping sob interrupting her flow of words.

 

“It could have been me…and everytime I close my eyes…every time I finally think I’ve got a handle on my emotions again, I see his face on the news or hear his voice in my head…”

 

Oliver froze, his words punching him in the stomach with such force that he had to keep himself from hauling her to him and never letting her go. Anger welled up within him and a deep part of him wanted to go back and get his bow and arrows and put that arrow through Mathis’s heart so he could never hurt anyone ever again.

 

“You’re safe,” he whispered, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible without falling apart himself. “You’re safe. I promise.”

 

Her eyes slipped shut as if she was trying to impress his words upon her very soul. His hands slid from her cheek to the back of her neck and tugged her forward. 

 

She collapsed against him, her head falling to his shoulder as he wrapped one arm about her waist and the other stayed at her neck, rubbing soothing patterns against the skin.

 

He felt Diggle’s eyes on them and turned his head slightly to find the other man watching with a look Oliver knew well. Diggle wanted justice for that monster as much as he did. 

 

A silent agreement passed between them.

 

When Felicity straightened, she took a full step back to try and collect herself. Oliver’s hands fell to the side as he watched her gather her emotions and tuck them away - something he knew she’d learned from him. He wasn’t sure how that knowledge made him feel.

 

Shrugging it off, he reached out a hand between them. “Come on, let’s go home.”

 

Felicity eyed his hand, and then him, brows furrowing. He could tell she was trying to work through her fear; trying to let the rational side of her brain win out over the emotion.

 

“I’m not leaving until you want me too,” he added softly, and he saw her shoulders visibly relax at those words.

 

“Me either,” Digg echoed and she turned startled eyes to the other man in the room.

 

Her lips twisted upward into a small smile. “Sleepover at my place?”

 

Oliver chuckled and saw her cringe as those words ran back through her head, but she held her ground and slid her hand into his. The warmth from her palm seeped into his skin and he couldn’t help that familiar sense of comfort that washed over him whenever she was near.

 

She grabbed her purse, while Diggle held the door and Oliver hit the lights. 

 

His hand never left hers until he helped her into the backseat of the car. He had his bike and would follow behind them.

 

The ride to her apartment was short, and he parked his bike before meeting them at the door. Felicity fished out her keys and let them into her dark apartment. She immediately went around and flipped on all the lights, and Oliver narrowed his eyes, wondering if she did this every night and the reasons behind it.

 

Oliver and Diggle immediately scanned the apartment without Felicity realizing what they were even doing. His eyes followed her as she walked into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee, seemingly, out of habit. 

 

Before he could move, her eyes flicked up to meet his. A smile graced her lips as she got down three cups from the cabinet and waved to the machine indicating they could help themselves.

 

When Felicity disappeared into her room, Oliver shed his suit coat and tie, draping both over an a kitchen chair before pouring the now-ready coffee. Two steaming cups in hand, he crossed to the living room area where Diggle had already planted himself in an armchair. Setting the cups down, he took a seat on the couch.

 

A few minutes later, Felicity emerged from her room, her make-up scrubbed free and dressed in a pair of old sweats and a t-shirt. 

 

He motioned to the coffee on the table and that earned him a wide smile. The tightness in his chest eased and he felt himself relaxing along with her. Only a hint of the fear and sadness were left in her blue eyes, and for that he was more than grateful.

 

As she sunk down on to the couch beside him, she picked up the remote and turned on the television.

 

“So what’s it going to be boys?” she asked, and he could hear the gratitude in her voice.

 

Two hours later, Felicity was asleep, her head pillowed against his shoulder, knees pulled up to her chest. She’d fallen asleep halfway through the second movie and Digg had followed suit, snoring softly from the armchair in the corner.

 

Grabbing the throw from the back of the couch, he wrapped it around Felicity, stilling when she shifted and pressed herself further against him. He thought about moving her to her bed, but in the end, didn’t want to risk waking her. 

 

At least, that’s excuse he gave himself. The truth was a little deeper, hidden behind the protective walls around his heart that she’d managed to sneak through.

 

If he was being completely honest, he didn’t move her because he’d almost lost her. The thought of what could have happened - the horrors that she could have gone through - were too much. 

 

Having her asleep, pillowed against him meant that he could hear her breaths as they fanned out over his shoulder and neck; that he could feel her heartbeat against his arm and revel in the warmth of her body which signified that she was very much alive and safe and next to him. 

 

And with those thoughts, he finally felt his own eyelids droop and let himself drift to sleep.


	4. A Choice Made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ax03 drabble.
> 
> This is an Oliver POV to **anthfan** 's [2x03 drabble](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/9753682/6/Season-2-Drables). She and befitandchase are enablers and well...this came out.

Oliver didn’t speak when he heard Felicity’s words cut off abruptly with a surprised scream, he just acted. Sprinting in the direction of her yell which he heard even without the comm link, he vaulted himself over a concrete barrier on the roof and grabbed the edge of the gutter, swinging himself down a few floors to the fire escape nocked an arrow in seconds.

When he spotted her, struggling, Mathis’s hands all over her, propelling her farther into the dark alleyway, he only saw red. Without hesitation, he aimed and fired off his shot, catching Mathis in the back.

It was enough for Felicity to break free, but as he scaled the rest of the distance to the ground, he saw her stumble, Mathis catching her back and her momentum sent her head first into a concrete wall.

He heard Lance’s shouts, and saw Mathis begin to run, but all his focus was on Felicity’s body, sprawled out in the dank alleyway. He couldn’t get to her fast enough, jumping over her legs and landing hard on his knees beside her. She moaned softly but didn’t open her eyes.

A terrifying flash of Tommy dying under piles of debris flew through his mind, but he pushed it back.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his concern leaking out in the pitch of his voice.

His hand went immediately to her elbow as both of hers flew to her head as if she could stop the pain with their touch. With quick precision, his eyes trailed over her body, looking for other visible injuries.

When he found none, he placed his hand at her waist and moved his thumb against the fabric of her shirt, not realizing what he was doing until her hand landed on his arm, and, for a moment, his lungs stopped working.

Her other hand fell to the side, and he thought he felt a small pressure near his ankle, but he couldn’t be sure. Whatever the reason, she was reaching for him - as if he was her safety and she needed to feel him near. His chest constricted as a little voice in the back of his head taunted that he was actually the opposite for her. If anything, he was the reason she was in these dangerous, life-threatening situations in the first place. That guilt gnawed at the edges of his heart and it was all he could do to force it back into one of the doors he’d created in his mind to block out his feelings.

He saw her try to open her eyes, but she only let out another soft groan. “Don’t move,” he commanded, hearing Digg’s footsteps approach.

In the back of his head, he heard Lance continue after Mathis and the primal part of him needed to follow - to catch the man who had done this -to stop him from hurting anyone again. Felicity couldn’t have put herself in this much danger for nothing.

When her fingers shifted against the leather of his jacket, he had to resist the temptation to throw it all to hell and pick her up and get her to safety himself.

But he knew he’d hear it from her if he let Mathis get away. And that along with the need to stop this monster that the Undertaking had inadvertently released, made him glance in the direction Mathis and Lance had run.

When Digg appeared beside them, he pushed himself away, clapping a hand to his shoulder as he told him she’d hit her head. He felt the missing pressure of her fingers on his arm, and he found it odd that he could miss something that had barely been present. But he did.

Knowing Felicity was safe in Digg’s hands, he launched himself forward, running after Mathis and Lance. By the time he caught up, Lance was on the ground, gun trained on him.

The arrow left his bow immediately, knocking the gun away and the flurry of movement that followed left Lance on the ground and Mathis bolting away as sirens surrounded them.

"Get out of here!" Lance warned, and with one more glance in the direction Mathis had run that was now blocked by incoming cars, he fled.

He didn’t bother trying to keep his footsteps light when he entered the Foundry. The sight of Felicity lying unconscious on the medical bay table halted him mid-step.

His eyes flew to Diggle who gave him a reassuring nod.

"She’s okay," he reaffirmed with his words, when Oliver’s eyes flew back to Felicity’s prone form. "She was almost asleep when I got her back here. She’s got a pretty nasty bump on her head, but she’ll be fine."

Oliver released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, and closed the remaining distance between himself and Felicity. His hand rose as if to touch her face, but then he remembered himself and Diggle and pulled it back with gritted teeth.

"She shouldn’t have been out there," he growled, and it was words he’d been wanting to say since she’d brought up the plan but knew he couldn’t -not when he’d given her that determined look and echoed words once used to describe another female in his life.

"It was her choice, Oliver."

And there were the words again.

"I know." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just…sometimes it’s too close."

Diggle nodded, “She’s stronger than we think.”

Oliver blew out another breath. “Yeah. Stubborn too.”

The other man chuckled. “Sounds familiar.”

Oliver gave him a half-hearted look of annoyance before returning his attention back to Felicity.

"How hard was it for her…" He left the question hanging, knowing John would understand what he couldn’t say.

Diggle crossed his arms and leaned against the computer table. “It wasn’t easy, Oliver. She had…demons from that night too. Still does, I think. She won’t talk about it still. But they’re there.”

"I didn’t think about that…when I left…I just…" Oliver tried to explain, his eyes trailing from her blonde hair to the soft pink of her scrubbed lips.

"You were in self-preservation mode, I know."

The words weren’t accusatory or threatening, they were just there. Spoken between them and understood.

"If he’d gotten her tonight…"

"But he didn’t."

"If he had though…she’s so…she’s important." Oliver let the unspoken words hang at the end of the sentence.

Both men heard them.

To me. To this. To everything.

Admitting all of that was too risky. Too much. He couldn’t do that because then he was admitting that she meant more to him than he wanted to allow. Because if he cared, then the idea of losing her was almost overwhelming. But he knew it had already happened. That she’d already bridged his fortress of walls and snuck past the guards to his heart. She was deeply embedded within him - and maybe that more than anything was the reason he’d changed her job and made him her Executive Assistant. He needed her nearby. Not just for work. Not for their nighttime activities. But for himself. Because she reminded him what it meant to feel. What it meant to be alive. And he craved that feeling. Craved her and all that she meant and represented for him. A future. A life.

"You told me once you could protect her -we could protect her. We are," Diggle finally said, and Oliver felt something he’d been trying to ignore push open within him.

Oliver could only nod. He would do that. They would do that. There was no other choice. He couldn’t lose her.

He watched as Digg grabbed an ice-pack, and motioned to her. “Want to help me get her to the couch?”

Oliver nodded quickly and crossed over to her, picking her up with ease. Her head fell against his shoulder and he fought the urge to press his lips to her temple.

He laid her down gently against the couch cushions and then pulled the blanket off the back, placing it over her. Diggle put the ice-pack to her head and held it there gently. 

Something propelled Oliver forward, and Diggle automatically moved to the side as he approached. In an unspoken agreement, Diggle released his hold on the ice-pack and Oliver took over.

His brow furrowed as he gazed down at her. He was still getting used to her with her hair down, and this time, she’d done it up differently. 

Leaning closer, he let his fingertips graze through the soft strands, trying to figure out when they’d decided to erase that line of personal space they’d been crossing more and more lately. It was just little things - a hand to her arm, her fingers pressing against his chest - but it was something he’d noticed. Whether she did or not, he wasn’t sure.

When her eyes began to flutter open, he held his breath and tilted her body towards her. Bleary blue eyes blinked open and focused on his face and he exhaled softly.

“Hey,” she murmured, fighting to give him a weak smile.

His voice was low and gravelly when he replied. “Hey.”

“Did you get him?” she asked, and he felt his stomach twist in a knot, feeling the tension return to his frame as he shook his head.

“No.”

The look in her eyes shifted instantly from apprehension to regret. “Sorry,” she began softly. “I should have…”

His free hand grasped her wrist, needing her to stop speaking. This wasn’t her fault. She shouldn’t be apologizing. She’d put herself on the line so that they could catch the bastard and they’d failed.

“Don’t,” he bit out. “Don’t apologize.”

She swallowed and then nodded. She blinked and glassy eyes stared back at him as he saw the panic she’d felt earlier return. His hand found hers and twined with it, trailing his thumb back and forth across her wrist. 

He watched with concern as she took in a long, shuddering breath and expelled it slowly. 

“You’re safe,” he whispered comfortingly. “I’ll get him.”

The hint of a smile on her lips was enough for now, and he saw her lids closing again. Placing the ice-pack to the side, he pulled the blanket up higher around her, his fingers brushing against her shoulder. She sighed, and he decided to let her sleep, but just before he could move away, her hand reached out and found his, intertwining her fingers with his before letting her hand fall back to the couch.

When he glanced back at her, she was fast asleep. With a deep, steadying breath, he went to change vowing once more to always keep her safe.


	5. wave upon wave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2x04 drabble. Oliver's thoughts after he finds out Sara is alive and back in Starling City. Takes place during the scene when he is talking to Diggle and Felicity in the Foundry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this one. It came on after a lot of feels from 2x04. I blame andyouweremine's tags and anthfan for putting the image in my head. 
> 
> As always, I'd love to hear what you think! Thanks!

He was drowning again. The water was rising all around him and he could barely keep his head above the surface. Every now and then, he’d go under, and he thought about just giving up - letting go of all of this pain and guilt and terror. The secrets kept pulling him down, weighing so heavily against him he wasn’t sure he had any more strength to drag them along.

During one of those resurfacing moments, he heard their voices - _her_ voice - talking and he slowly made the effort to raise his head.

 

The images and flashes that threatened to consume him pulled at the edges of his mind, but once he could see them - see _her_ \- he began to focus.

 

The tremble in her voice tugged at a deep part of him, but it was nothing compared to the absolute concern and sadness that filled her normally sparkling blue eyes.

 

He could see her trying to make sense of everything. But he never wanted her to - because then she might see him for the damaged person he truly was - the person unworthy of either of their trust or loyalty.

 

_Don’t you have any happy stories?_

 

Those words slammed into him with all the force of a bullet. Her eyes swam with unspoken words, and he could see her own burdens - the darkened edges of her memories that he’d brought into her life. He could sense her hesitation - the need to reach out - to fix him.

 

He didn’t deserve it. He never would.

 

There was a pleading tone in her voice. Like she wanted to provide those happy stories - to erase the ones filled with unimaginable pain and betrayal with love and trust.

 

_These were five years - five years where nothing good happened…they were better off not knowing._

 

He couldn’t stop the tremor in his own voice and he saw her jump slightly when he raised it to yell - trying to subdue the whispers in his head.

 

When Diggle spoke again, he didn’t have an answer. His mind was on overload and he was so close to a tipping point, he could feel himself sinking under the waves of guilt and betrayal, and the possibility of seeing that on either of their faces - the two people who knew him better than anyone - was something that would send him drowning in his own sea of regrets and memories of the hell he’d endured.

 

He was about to get up, needing to move before he turned to stone where he sat. The weight of everything was growing to be too much and if he didn’t act, it would crush him.

 

Before he could make that move, he saw a swirl of printed material and then black as soft hands curled around him. He stilled, every inch of him still screaming at him to move before the supports he used to hold everything up crumbled. But he couldn’t.

 

Her familiar scent surrounded him.

 

A hand slipped over his hair and pulled his head to her chest while the other held tight to his shoulder. The loud roar in his head began to dull as her fingers ghosted through the short strands refusing to let him go.

 

Slowly, a faint beating sound penetrated the roar and he realized with a start it was the sound of her heart. He closed his eyes and focused on the slightly elevated rhythm, pulling at every last shred of control he had to keep from falling back into that sea of memories that she’d rescued him from without even knowing it.

 

With each passing minute, he could feel his body relaxing, muscles uncoiling and emotions unlocking. 

 

He shuddered - a full body wracking shudder - but she didn’t loosen her hold. Instead, she clung to him tighter.

 

She didn’t seek more. She didn’t move away when he didn’t return the embrace. She just held him.

 

And it had been so long since he’d just been held.

 

He let out a long, deep sigh and her fingers twitched where they’d come to rest at the base of his skull, moving gently in the soft strands at the back of his neck.

 

When the only thing he could hear was the beating of her heart, and his mind had gone blessedly blank, he brought his hands to her hips.

 

She didn’t jump, but her muscles contracted and she took his cue, stepping back and releasing him slowly.

 

Before she could turn away, he caught her hand, and her eyes flew to his. He could see her worry and concern, and the unshed tears that clung to her lashes. She still didn’t understand. And he could see she wanted to - that it was physically hurting her that she couldn’t figure this all out and fix it. But her jaw was set in a determined line and she nodded after regarding him for a few moments.

 

He wasn’t whole. He was so far from it. And he didn’t deserve her. He didn’t deserve either of them.

 

But they were there. And, maybe, it was time to take a step towards them - towards _her_ \- and away from the waves of tortured memories that lapped at his back.


	6. the fear you won't fall (2x06 drabble)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2x06 episode tag drabble. After Russia, Oliver tries to understand his growing feelings for Felicity. (The office scene...)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to hopedreamlovepray.tumblr.com
> 
> I hope you enjoy it! It's short but it was something I was compelled to write after the episode, especially from Oliver's POV.
> 
> As always, please let me know what you think! It means a lot to hear your replies!

He knew it would come. That moment when Felicity would ask him about it again. He’d been dreading it and wanting it from the moment Isabel had slipped past him out of his room and the look of complete betrayal and misunderstanding flooded her face.

And that’s when the wind had been knocked out of him.

That look on her face was one that twisted something deep inside of him and held on until he could barely breathe.

Her name had been a plea because her walking away from him is one of his least favorite things.

And if she would ever do that permanently, he wasn’t sure he would be left intact.

So when she asked him, in the hesitant but persistent voice, why, why Isabel, he’d deflated, and this unbidden need to make her understand rose within him.

“It just kind of happened. It didn’t mean anything…”

Her downcast face stirred something within him that he’d thought long lost, and he had to restrain himself from rounding the desk and tipping her chin back up.

Instead, he opted for a quiet voice – the one that he rarely used around anyone but her.

"Hey…”

And when she did look up, the sadness – not because of him but for him caught him off-guard. She tried to hid it behind a mask of professionalism, but she couldn’t. It was there for him to see - how much she cared about him and how much she wanted good things in his life.

“Because of the life that I live...I just think that it’s better to not be with anyone I could really care about.”

As he said the words, a dawning realization began somewhere in his chest and worked it’s way north. He’d made peace with this when he’d come back from the island the second time. Made peace with the fact that he would be alone – that he would be okay alone – because the idea of anyone close to him getting hurt was unthinkable.

But as he stood there, looking at Felicity - the woman who’d seen so much of him in the past year and a half and still hadn’t run away – he got this impression that he wasn’t seeing something he should be. A garbled message was being sent through the synapses to his brain and he couldn’t decode it.

Why was it so important for her to know this? Why did he desperately have to tell her – make her understand why he couldn’t be with anyone he could care about? Why did it matter?

The answer was there. He could feel it. Somewhere deep in his breast, fighting against the vines and snares entwined around his heart from years of having it betrayed and cut open.

She held his gaze, and he saw the understanding but also the confusion in her blue eyes that reminded him often of the open sky and every possibility he could imagine.

As she swiveled in her chair, she tried to place that mask back on - the one that told him she didn’t agree or approve.

He didn’t turn to watch as she walked away from the desk, intent on delivering the papers he’d placed there.

It was her deep intake of breath – the tell of her about to speak – that had him turning.

Her face was still clouded with sadness, and he ached to fix that, but he didn’t know how, or even if it was his place. After all, wasn’t he responsible for it?

“Well I think…” she whispered, her voice wavering only slightly until she took a breath and said her next words with more conviction. “I think you deserve better.”

His chest expanded; breathing in deeply at her unexpected admission. And he held her gaze, her eyes searching his until something began to click into place. Those synapses started recognizing the signals and the message was still clouded, but bits and pieces filtered through.

He couldn’t be with people he could really care about – people he could truly fall for – people like her.

She held his gaze a moment longer, and he watched as she turned, giving him the barest of comforting smiles to let him know they were okay, and then walking to the elevators.

When she’d disappeared behind the silver sliding doors, the breath fell out of him and he gripped the edge of her desk.

If he let himself, he could fall for her.

But his heart was so damaged, and his life so dangerous. It wouldn’t be fair to her. He couldn’t put her in even a possibility of that situation because losing her was not an option.

No, it was better this way. With his heart locked behind vines and shielded with bravado that disappeared when he lay in his own bed alone at night.

He could fall for her. Give her _everything_.

And as he turned back to his office, he tried to ignore the little voice in his head – the one that sounds a lot like Tommy – that told him he already had.


	7. Of Sweatshirts and Comfort (2x08 drabble)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity waits with Oliver as Diggle goes to retrieve Barry from the train station, and begs him to stay with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw a post on tumblr earlier today that gave me this idea. Of course, I couldn’t resist the image of Felicity in Oliver’s grey sweatshirt any more than I could resist the prompt of her in his leather jacket or her in his suit coat. (sigh) But I’m actually pretty happy with this one. It’s not much, but it was good to write. I hope you enjoy it as well.
> 
> Thanks to anthfan and chasethewind for looking it over.
> 
> As always, I love to hear your thoughts. Thanks!

Her hands were shaking as she paced back and forth in the lair, waiting.  She felt helpless and she hated that feeling.  Her eyes were trained on the unconscious figure of Oliver on the medical bay table - skin getting paler by the second.  

**   
**

She needed Diggle to get back.  She needed Barry to get there so he could help them.  So they could save Oliver.  Because losing him was  _not_ an option.

The computers behind her beeped.  Her second attempt to hack into the records failing.  A cry of anger and desperation tore at her throat as she tried not to throw one of Oliver’s arrows at her own screens.

**   
**

Stilling her fingers as best as she could, she took a deep breath and tried again. 

**   
**

The half-empty syringes sat on a tray near her computers, mocking her.

**   
**

Unshed tears pooled in her eyes, blurring her vision momentarily and she reached out a hand blindingly for her chair to steady her.

**   
**

She felt something soft under her fingertips and blinked back the tears to find the grey sweatshirt Oliver had been wearing the night before when he’d had his first run in with this super-villain.  

**   
**

Her dark purple fingernails clenched around the fabric as she remembered him limping back into the Foundry, holding his side.

**   
**

She’d pushed Diggle out of the way, only afterwards realizing what she had done.  The other man said nothing of her actions though and let her help him out of his leather jacket.  

**   
**

She had hissed when she’d seen the angry red road burns from where he’d slid across the hood of the car and then the pavement.  Silently, she took the medical supplies from Diggle, surprised he was letting her do this but when she had glanced up at him, she’d seen the understanding in his eyes.

**   
**

There’d been a shift between Oliver and her after the incident with The Count.  It was one neither of them had mentioned, but she had felt it - seen it.  Suddenly, she’d found herself needing to be the one to patch him up - feel and see that he was still alive.  Maybe she thought of it as making up for causing him to go back on his promise not to kill again - even though he’d made it abundantly clear to her that he hadn’t regretted his choice.  Or maybe it was just a new understanding between them - a deepening of an already strong bond.  

**   
**

Either way, Diggle hadn’t questioned her actions nor had Oliver.

**   
**

There hadn’t been a moment’s doubt that she was going to go with Diggle when the comms had gone deadly silent that night.  The military man had looked at her - eyes boring through her and then just nodded his head.  She wanted to ask him what he was looking for - what he was seeing on her face - but she was too scared.   Too scared to hear a truth she wasn’t willing to admit to herself, much less acknowledge openly.

**   
**

A shiver ran through her body as her fingers wrapped around the soft cotton and lifted it from the back of her chair.  She pulled it into her chest as she spun to look at the Oliver - so still and quiet on the table.  Her eyes flew to the heart monitors just to make sure he was still alive.

**   
**

A cry was working it’s way slowly up her throat and she could barely breath by the time she took two steps towards him, the article of clothing still gripped in her hands.

**   
**

Her body shook and trembled from the fear and all the worst-case scenarios that spun through her head.

**   
**

It was a split-second decision, but she didn’t second guess it.

**   
**

With a sweep of her hands, she found the opening in the sweatshirt and slipped her arms through the holes, pulling it tightly around her body.  It engulfed her small frame but his scent surrounded her and she inhaled deeply.  Warmth seeped into her and she took what little comfort she could from the feel and smell of him.  She wished it was his arms wrapped around her, his neck she was pressing her nose against and not just his sweatshirt.  But it was something.

**   
**

Her feet carried her the rest of the way to his side, and with one hand she reached out to touch his fingers, still encased in black leather.  The grey material of his sweatshirt slipped past her wrists and over her hand so only her purple nails and the tips of her fingers showed as they wrapped around the supple material and held tight.

**   
**

A tear slipped down her cheek when she closed her eyes and she drew in a shaky breath.  The hand that held the sweatshirt tightly around her fell to his wrist and found the skin beneath the leather of his jacket.  His pulse was thready but it was there.

**   
**

“Don’t you dare leave us, Oliver Queen,” she whispered vehemently into the silent lair.  “Don’t you dare leave  _me_ .”

**   
**

_Nothing gold ever stays_.  The quote rattled around in her mind and she shook it away.  She refused let those words from one of her favorite childhood books become the truth in this case.  So far, those words had held far more reality in her life than she would have liked.  But not this time.  She wouldn’t let them - not here.  Not now.  Not with him.

**   
**

A few seconds later the door to the lair flew beeped open and Diggle appeared, Barry slung unconscious over his shoulder.

**   
**

He glanced at her but if he noticed her wearing Oliver’s sweatshirt (and how could he not), he said nothing.

**   
**

They waited together, Diggle standing sentry at Oliver’s side as she paced back and forth between the computers and Oliver.

**   
**

Eventually, Diggle caught her wrist on her eighth pass and slipped his large hand around her smaller one.  She fell into his side and he hugged her with one arm as she reached blindingly for Oliver’s hand again.

**   
**

“This is going to work,” Diggle told her but she heard the catch in his own voice.  “He’s going to be okay.”

**   
**

She held on to both of them - her team - her family - and nodded her head, needing that to be the believe his words.

**  
** The city couldn’t lose him.  They couldn’t lose him.   _She_ couldn’t lose him.

_**A/N: "Nothing gold ever stays" is from the book The Outsiders.  Emily said in an interview recently about feeling that someone Felicity knew things never stayed - that people came and went in her life.  This quote seems like one that would describe that.  But I think Felicity will do everything she can to hold on to this family she's found._


	8. Missing Her (2x10 drabble)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When she goes to Central City to be by Barry's side, Oliver realizes he misses her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one wouldn’t leave me alone until I wrote it after reading the new spoilers. I’m sorry if it’s a bit off or I missed something - I wrote it fast and am posting it because I need to go to sleep.
> 
> As always, I love to hear what you think! You guys make my day with your comments! 
> 
> Huge thanks to anthfan and chasethewind for reading this over and helping me through my crises. 
> 
> Originally posted on tumblr. (hopedreamlovepray.tumblr.com)

It was supposed to be two days. Two days to go and visit Barry in Central City and then come back.

But two days quickly turned into three, and then four after Felicity arrived and saw that he really didn’t have to many people in his life.

She’d set everything up for Oliver; continued to schedule his appointments and manage his online files from her laptop and tablet. She had every meeting note he would need ready and set up in specific folders labeled by date on his desk. 

“Even Digg should be able to handle being your assistant for a week,” she’d said before she left with a twinkle in her eyes. And he’d caught the glare the man had thrown her way, even though he knew it was all in jest.

 

There was an extra urgency to return to the Foundry after chasing down the latest possible lead. So when he walked into the Foundry and didn’t see her blonde hair peeking out from the top of her chair, a large swoop of disappoint filled him. Swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth, he tried to ignore the way his heart fell.

Diggle’s explanation drew a solitary sigh from his lungs. He hadn’t realized how much he was looking forward to seeing her again until she hadn’t been there.

When Diggle had pointed out earlier in the week that he’d been more testy than usual, he’d brushed it off, blaming it on the stress of trying to find the man in the skeleton mask. But Diggle leveled him with a knowing look,and Oliver knew he’d caught him staring at her empty chair too many times to believe that was the whole truth.

“It’s okay to miss her, you know,” he’d said easily, arching an eyebrow, large arms crossed in front of his chest.

Oliver had narrowed his eyes at his friend, but said nothing.

"Listen, you might not want to admit it, but you miss her. It’s okay to miss your friends, Oliver. It’s okay to miss people you care about when they’re not here.”

When he still hadn’t said anything, Diggle had sighed and walked away, clapping him on the back. “You have her number.”

Diggle’s words had hit him hard, striking a chord deep within him. Because they were true.

He _missed_ her.

He missed her smile - the way he lit up her whole face and chased away any shadows that clung to him.. He missed her voice - the way she trailed off whenever she realized she was rambling again. He missed getting to work in the morning and seeing her already at her desk, typing away, sometimes singing to music playing softly in the background. He missed knowing he had someone who he could trust, who always had his back, sitting across the office from him. He missed her encouraging smiles and the way she always managed to ease the pain after a long day and night. He missed her soft goodnight at the end of every day.

He hadn’t realized how much she’d become a part of his life until she wasn’t there. And it had only been a week.

And that scared him.

It’s why he didn’t call her. Calling her for a reason outside of the office or the Arrow was crossing into uncharted territory. Not that they hadn’t texted or called outside of their work before, but this felt different.

Ever since that night when he’d almost died and Barry had saved him (because Felicity had the foresight to contact him). Ever since she’d looked at him with blue eyes filled with such heavy emotions - pleading with him to promise her to return. Ever since he’d felt her arms wrapped around his neck, her body flush with his - so close he could feel her heartbeat against his chest. Ever since then - things had begun to shift.

He knew he cared about her. There was no point in trying to deny that. But there was something else too. Something stirring in his chest that he’d thought had long been dead and gone. She inspired hope within him; a hope for something more than he currently had. A hope for a future he never thought he deserved.

And all of those things terrified him. Almost as much as the idea that a madman had hold of miraku and was trying to build an army with it.

On more than one occasion since she’d been gone, he’d taken his phone out after an unsuccessful night under the hood and stared at her face above her number. His thumb would hover over the call button, a war waging inside of him. 

He desperately wanted to push that button, hear her voice, fall asleep with the sound of it in his head.

But that would be admitting he missed her; admitting he needed her - wanted her in his life.

Which he was coming to slowly realize, he did. He couldn’t imagine his life without her in it. 

And so when she finally was back, and something went wrong, their best lead escaping into thin air, everything came crashing down and the careful restraint he had on his emotions broke.

He knew the second he started for the lair, he needed to calm down. But the idea of being so close to possibly finding the miraku and then losing it, having Felicity back, and the absolute relief and joy that flooded him when he heard her voice over the comms created a storm within his heart - one that he didn’t know how to abate.

“What the hell happened, Felicity?” he raged, the second he landed at the bottom of the steps, bow discarded on the nearest surface.

He saw her jump slightly, whirling in her chair, eyebrows furrowed. 

She was beautiful. Blonde hair up in her usual ponytail, that grey dress hugging the curves of her body, bright pink lips drawing his attention to them.

“I can’t just make a tracking device appear! Nor can I magically install a camera on the side of buildings wherever you decide you need it,” she said, her voice rising as she straightened in her chair, hands beginning to fly.

“What about satellite images?” he questioned, stalking towards her, his growled as he tried to rein in his anger. “You’ve used that before.”

“I need time to do that, Oliver,” she countered, pushing herself up from the chair as he hovering over her, making him take a step back. “I can’t just hack into any satellite on command. I’m good, damn good. But I’m not a magician. You gave me two seconds. Two seconds.”

She was toe-to-toe with him, her eyes blazing, cheeks flushed, as she stared him down. “I dare you to find someone who could do that, Oliver Queen. I don’t care how much money you throw at them. It’s not possible.”

“I don’t want anyone else,” he roared, and his eyes slammed shut when he saw her still at his words.

Turning on his heel, he grimaced, and took a deep, steadying breath. Having her so close, her breaths coming out in short gasps, defiance and determination flashing through her blue eyes, was affecting him more than he thought possible.

Unclipping his quiver, he slipped it from his shoulder and tossed it on the metal table in front of him, feeling her gaze still heavy on his back. 

When he finally turned, her chin was set, her arms folded across her chest, waiting.

“That was the best lead we’ve had in weeks, Felicity,” he said through gritted teeth, leaning heavily against the table behind him. “I’ve been out every night this week tracking down these guys, without backup because DIggle needed to be here to do your job.”

He watched her blanch, her face falling at the low jab before aggravation swiftly took it’s place. Her cheeks flushed as she closed the gap between them, pointing her finger at him in warning. 

“Don’t you dare throw five days in my face, Oliver Queen. You left for five months, and I had no idea where you were. Five months,” she cried, sticking her finger against the leather of his jacket and pushing.

He didn’t budge but he glanced down to see the light green nail poking into his chest, a familiar feeling washing over him, only adding to his angry, confused state.

Oliver sucked in a deep breath, his eyes falling closed, guilt slamming into him.

Fisting his hands at his sides, he swallowed, before opening his eyes to find her watching him, her face a mixture of anger, confusion, and slight remorse. He knew she felt bad for throwing the five months he’d returned to the island in his face. Although he knew he deserved it, she never wanted to cause him pain, and it was one more thing that made his chest tighten. 

He clenched his teeth, not knowing why seeing her again was pulling all these emotions from him. He felt at war with his own body. 

“Oliver,” she finally said, her voice suddenly belying a tiredness he felt as well. “This isn’t because I couldn’t perform a miracle. You know I’m good at my job, but nobody could have done what you asked.”

He could hear her deflated sigh and heard her take another step towards him til there was almost no space between them. “What is this really about?”

His eyes found hers, blue on blue, and his brow knitted together because somehow, once again, she could read him as if he were an open book.

All his anger faded away as he took in her weary expression and worried eyes. Her hands twisted together in front of her as if fighting her own instinct to reach out to him, his heart thudded in his chest at the thought. 

He’d missed her touch too. The little caresses they’d started giving each other more and more since his return from the island. A touch to an arm or a shoulder that would linger a few seconds longer than necessary.

“You’re right,” he finally admitted, knowing he needed to say something but not able to tell her everything. Not yet. “It’s not that.”

Silence stretched out between them as he fought to find the right words, working through each and every emotion blazing through him.

He gave her a tired smile, and with a strained voice gave her the only truth he could at the moment. “It’s just been a long five days.”

Her eyes narrowed as he watched her try to decipher his specifically vague explanation. Their gazes locked, and time seemed to stand still and he wondered if she could see exactly what he couldn’t bring himself to say. 

Slowly, the lines in her brow disappeared and a look of understated resignation washed over her face. Her eyes which always displayed so much of her heart reached out to him, and he swallowed, wanting nothing more than to erase the remaining distance between them and wrap her in his arms. Instead, he dug his fingers into the palms, his gaze never leaving hers.

Felicity opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Diggle came down the stairs. He paused at the bottom, glancing back and forth between them before directing his attention towards Felicity.

Oliver watched as she finally drew her eyes away from his, and when she did, he felt himself deflate. Quickly, he headed in the direction of the shower she’d installed in the renovations, not bothering to answer the questioning look Digg sent him over his shoulder.

He hoped a warm shower would give him a fresh perspective and help him put his emotions back in place.

Somehow, he knew it wouldn’t. When it came to Felicity, she would always be able to see right through any masks he tried to wear. Which is why he needed to figure out what he was feeling and come to terms with it before he ruined it all.


	9. Unnecessary Burdens (2x11 drabble)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally wrote this based on spoilers/speculation. Originally posted on tumblr at hopedreamlovepray.tumblr.com.
> 
> As always, I love to know what you guys think! Thanks so much for the awesome support! :)

“What happened to you?” Felicity gasped when her eyes landed on Oliver as he came down the stairs into the Foundry.

She was out of her chair and halfway towards him before he could tell her not to worry.

“You were just going to talk to Laurel, not get in a bar fight,” she added, her hand coming up to trace the still sensitive and warm flesh above his right eye.

Diggle appeared beside her, examining the cut, and giving him a raised eyebrow in question.

“Apparently Blood decided to pay Laurel a visit,” he explained, pulling his head from Felicity’s grasp and walking around them.

His shoulders were tight, drawn up around him like a protective shield. Felicity could see he was on-edge, the tension rolling off him in waves and she frowned.

“Apparently?” she asked in confusion, cocking her head to the side.

When Oliver spun back towards them, his jaw was tight and he refused to look either of them in the eye. “I was knocked out before I could see anything. They caught me coming around a corner.”

“How did they get the drop on you?” Diggle asked incredulously, and Oliver’s head swiveled to meet his, sending the other man a glare that would send most men running in the other direction.

“Yeah, I thought you had like…” Felicity moved her hands around her head as she spoke, “ninja senses?”

“Well, I didn’t this time,” he ground out, holding their gazes, daring either of them to say something else.

That glare did nothing to keep Diggle from speaking his mind. They’d worked together for too long, and Felicity watched as the other man braced his large arms in front of him and eyed Oliver with an unimpressed look.

“You know what I’m going to say, Oliver,” he commented, his voice firm but soft. “She’s always been your blind spot. One of these days you or someone is going to get hurt because of it.”

And then as if knowing he wouldn’t be welcome in that moment, Diggle gave her a soft pat on the shoulder and started up the stairs.

Oliver stared after him, his jaw working beneath his skin, hands curled into fists at his side.

It wasn’t until the door slammed shut that he turned and stalked towards her computers.

She regarded him for a few moments before finally closing the distance between them. He stood frozen in place, staring mindlessly at her computer screens.

When she glanced at his face, his eyes were stormy - the usually bright blue color tempered with the grey of an overcast day. But despite his still troubled thoughts, she noted that the muscle in his jaw had relaxed along with his shoulders. Instead of looking angry, he suddenly looked world weary.

Placing a gentle hand on his arm, Felicity tugged him with her over to her chair, forcing him to sit. When he didn’t resist, her eyebrows raised into her hairline but she said nothing. Instead, she walked over to the medical supply cart and gathered gauze, alcohol, and butterfly bandages.

Setting them on the desk in front of him, she took a deep breath before leaning in so she could get a better look at the cut just above his eyebrow. Dried blood caked the edges but it didn’t look deep enough to need stitches. The skin around it was turning an ugly shade of purple and she knew it would be visible tomorrow.

She worked silently, taking the gauze and cleaning the wound. He only winced once when she first applied the alcohol. Otherwise, he remained stoic, his eyes trained over her shoulder. HIs breath came out in long, slow draws and she could feel the air tickle over her skin with each exhale. 

The silence surrounded them, and unlike their normally easy silence, this one felt heavy; unspoken words filling the air.

After she smoothed the last bandage into place, she stood back to examine her work. A small smile cracked her lips knowing Diggle would be proud. He’d taught her well, just in case he was ever too hurt to help Oliver or himself.

A warm hand shot out just as she was about to turn to put the supplies away. Calloused fingers curved around her elbow and his rough voice stayed her.

“I feel responsible for her,” he said slowly, deliberately as if every word had been carefully thought through. “Everything she’s gone through has somehow been linked to me…”

Felicity sighed, shrugging out of his hold, and standing up, waiting until he looked at her to speak. “I understand that you feel guilty for what happened with Sara, and that you still care for her. But Laurel is a grown woman, Oliver. You trying to take ownership of all her decisions, good or bad, takes away her freedom. She made her own choices. You didn’t make her do anything. She made those decisions all on her own. And they may not have been the best choices, but they were not yours and what she is going through is not your fault.”

A furrow formed in his brow as she spoke, his eyes searching hers until they dropped to his hands, balled in front of him.

Gently, she reached out and covered both of his with one of her own, causing him to raise his gaze once more. Dark blue eyes stared into her and she was always amazed at the effect his gaze had on her. One look from him made her feel things she could barely define.

Licking her lips, she drew in a breath before speaking again.

“You are not responsible for all the bad things that happen around you,” she whispered, her voice breaking when she saw the broken look in his eyes. 

His fingers closed around hers, warmth encasing her small hand. “You’re a good friend, Oliver. Just keep being that. But don’t carry burdens you aren’t responsible for. You’re a good man. Remember that.”

His eyes fell shut, his head sinking forward as he clung to her hand.

“Thank you,” he finally rasped, and she gave him a soft smile when he returned his gaze to hers.

Nodding slightly, she leaned forward and brushed her lips across his cheek before untangling her hand and gathering the supplies.

She was half way across the Foundry when she heard him speak again. “What Diggle said...I would never let anything happen to you...I wouldn't put your life at stake.”

Her body froze at his words, her last step echoing in the cavernous space as she swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat. She would be lying if she’d never considered the idea of what would happen if it ever came down to her or Laurel. 

And even with his words, she prayed she’d never be put in that situation; not sure if she could handle the truth.


	10. let me in the walls you built around (2x13 speculation drabble)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Sara's mother is kidnapped by the League in an attempt to get her back, Felicity reveals something about her own past to Oliver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** So this came to me a little after we started getting spoilers for the 2x13 episode. I didn't know what we were going to learn about Felicity's backstory, and this is the plot bunny that wouldn't leave me alone. :) I hope it came out okay. I scrapped a few things here and there with it until I was mostly happy. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Title credit: The Civil Wars ("Dust to Dust")

Oliver’s eyes widened, his muscles tensing with fear and horror as he listened to what Felicity was saying. 

 

He’d been at a dinner with Walter when he’d gotten the text from Felicity telling him to get to the lair as soon as possible. Although he felt bad, he quickly gave Walter what he hoped was a believable excuse. Judging by the look that had appeared on Walter's face when he mentioned Felicity, he didn’t think his step-father had believed him, but he’d let him go with a nod and a handshake telling him they’d talk again soon, and to give Felicity his regards.

 

Traffic was worse than usual and it took an extra twenty minutes to get from the restaurant to Verdant. As he had descended the steps into the Foundry, he’d heard hear the familiar clack of metal on wood, grunts of frustration ringing out in the open area.

 

Felicity had her back to them, standing tensely at her computers, arms crossed over her chest as she watched Sara.

 

When she turned her head to meet his gaze, her normally clear blue eyes were swimming with worry and concern, and he thought he even detected a tremor of fear running through them, although he didn’t think it was directed at Sara.

 

“She’s been doing this for an hour,” she whispered, her voice uneven as she turned back to watch Sara destroy yet another one of his training dummies. “I’m sorry I didn’t text you sooner. I thought she would stop, but she didn’t.”

 

Felicity explained to them what little she knew as they watched the younger Lance sister exact revenge on whatever was near to her.

 

She’d flown into the lair, eyes watering, Felicity told them quietly, anger seething out of her as she’d quickly picked up her bow staff and begun to hit anything in sight on the training mats.

 

At Felicity's’ words, he and Diggle had shared a look knowing that Sara obviously needed to work through her aggression before either of them approached her.

 

Oliver had seen the moment Felicity wanted to reach out, her hand fluttering up and his was halfway to her shoulder when she pulled back and he saw her clamp down on her fuschia painted lips.

 

Letting his hand fall to her shoulder, she swiveled her head to look at him,and he saw the stark concern in her blue eyes; a look of shared grief that he’d never seen from her before causing his own brows to furrow. 

 

As if realizing she was showing too much, she turned her head back to look at Sara, the woman’s blonde hair streaking behind her as she pounded her bow staff into every viable surface, finally ending on a cry of desperation and heartbreak as she slumped forward.

 

He felt Felicity begin to move, but his hand tightened on her shoulder, keeping her in place. He’d seen a threatened Sara before - knew what the island and everything she’d been through had done to her. 

 

They needed to wait until she gave them a signal.

 

He felt Felicity’s body shudder under his hand and involuntarily stepped closer to her. His dress shirt rubbed up against her thin blouse, the material making a soft noise in the otherwise silent room.

 

The feather light touch of Felicity’s hair over the back of his hand caused his skin to tingle as he realized the how much tension was still evident in her shoulders and posture Something about watching Sara go through this was causing her to react, and, normally he would think nothing of it - Felicity had always been the empathetic one of the group, feeling for them all, but this was different. There had been a brief flash of agony in her eyes when she’d looked at him earlier, and it had cut him to the core.

 

When her small fingers wrapped around hand where it still lay against her shoulder, he looked down at her again, seeing the goosebumps that had risen over her flesh, standing out against the nape of her neck.

 

Her fingers clung to his tightly as if she was anchoring herself to the present, trying not to get swept away. He knew the feeling well as memories of his past continued to haunt him, licking at his back trying to pull him under with each new threat he faced that reminded him of a time during those lost five years.

 

It was Sara’s tight voice that broke him from his thoughts, his head whipping up to stare at the woman whose body was still bowed low, her breaths coming in harsh pants.

 

“This is why I didn’t come back, why I didn’t want them to know - why I stayed away.” 

 

Slowly, she lifted her head and he felt Felicity tense at the cold steel in Sara’s eyes. “This is why they should never have known I was alive. They are my weakness and they can be used against me. I tried so hard to detach myself from anything they could use…”

 

Her voice trailed off and the silence surrounded them again.

 

“We all have weaknesses,” Felicity spoke up, her voice a tremor of it’s normal self. “It’s part of what makes us human,” she breathed. “We all have things that can be lost or taken from us.”

 

He watched as Sara’s eyes focused on Felicity, sweeping over her as cold and detached as possible, and his instinct was to step in front of her, protect her from that look despite the fact that he knew she and Sara had become friends. Oliver had learned Sara’s looks intimately over their time together on the island - this was one he didn’t want Felicity to be acquainted with.

 

But Felicity didn’t back down. If anything, she straightened her back, standing up even taller, finding a reserve of strength that he’d been amazed to learn seemed to have no bounds.

 

“They took my mother,” Sara roared, back on her feet, suddenly pacing. “Their threats are very real...if I don’t go back with them, they will kill her. It’s all my fault…”

 

“Sara, I know this is hard, but we need to come up with a plan,” Diggle stated from somewhere behind him and the young woman’s eyes flew to his, fire flashing through them as she advanced step by step.

 

“How would you know this is hard?” she spat, eyes blazing, bow staff raised in threat. 

 

“You’re not the only one who has had someone taken from you,” Felicity said suddenly, her voice firm but soft. 

 

Oliver froze, instinctively thinking she was talking about him until he listened harder to the way her voice trembled with each word. 

 

She wasn’t talking about him. She was talking about herself.

 

Before he could react, Felicity took a step forward, and his hand fell from her shoulder, her fingers leaving his feeling cold and bereft at the loss of her touch.

 

His heart hammered in his chest as he tried to put together pieces of what he’d learned about her over the course of his background checks and then their year of working together. 

 

Never had she mentioned her family. Never had he found anything out about them. Never had he asked…

 

Sara’s eyes had softened by the time Felicity reached her side.

 

“And you haven’t lost her yet,” Felicity added after a beat. “We’ll find her. We’ll get her back.” She looked over her shoulder at him and then Diggle. “That’s what we do. We’re a team. Let us help…”

 

When her head turned back to Sara, Oliver waited with baited breath as Sara regarded her. 

 

“You don’t know who these people are,” he began, voice breaking.

 

“But you do,” Felicity countered. “You know them. You can help us figure out how they think.”

 

There was a pause and a tension as he watched Felicity’s shoulders rise and knew she was about to break into a ramble. 

 

“Not that you are one of them. And not that you think like them. But you know them and that can help us...”

 

Sara’s lips actually tilted into a self-deprecating smile as Felicity trailed off. 

 

As Sara looked up and locked eyes with him, her gaze shifting into something harder, something only he would understand. She had to stop this, even if it meant going back with them. Even if it meant dying.

 

Gritting his teeth, he nodded, but also silently promised her to not let it come to that.

 

Felicity had already started moving back to her computers, taking a seat in her chair and pulling up anything and everything that she could about the League of Assassins, security footage, satellite images. Her fingers worked over the keys in precise, defined keystrokes and if he didn’t know her body language as well as he did, he wouldn’t have seen the slight tremble of her shoulders.

 

He watched as Diggle flanked her left side, pointing out things on the screens, and leaning in closer to get a better look.

 

Sara was beside him before he could move towards them, her hand on his arm. “Even if I fall behind, I need you to promise me you’ll get my mother out alive.”

 

Her tone brooked no argument and he knew he could do nothing but nod his head in agreement, despite what losing her again would do to her family.

 

Then Sara was heading back towards the training mats and he knew she needed to let out a little more of her pent up emotions before she could trust herself around people.

 

His eyes shifted to Felicity who was now alone, Diggle moving to the other bank of monitors.

 

When her keystrokes finally stopped, he moved up behind her, his hand landing on her shoulder once more.

 

She tensed before relaxing back into her chair and his hand. 

 

“When this is over, I’m going to ask you what happened,” he told her quietly, his need to know and help her out-weighing everything else at the moment.

 

Her head whipped around, eyes searching his out, wide and surprised. Her bright painted lips created an oh and she heaved a sigh that had her looking down at her hands now clasped together in her lap before rising to meet his again.

 

“It doesn’t really matter anymore,” she replied softly, bright blue eyes holding so much sadness he wished he could erase.

 

His hand squeezed her shoulder. “It does to me,” he replied, and watched as her eyes fluttered shut and she nodded her head.

 

Before they could say any more, Diggle was talking as he headed towards them, asking Felicity to pull up an image onto her screen. Everything else got pushed to the backburner until later, but his hand remained firmly planted on her shoulder until he had to move away to suit up.

 

***

 

He kept his word - two days later after Sara’s mom had been found alive and the Assassins had been dealt with for the time being. Sara had agreed to stay around for awhile, her family not wanting to lose her again despite her fears of them continuing to be used against her. 

 

Felicity, Oliver, and Diggle knew it was more about being there to try and protect her family than anything else. The guilt was still deeply carved into her soul and Oliver could see the uncertainty in her decision after she’d agreed.

 

The moment they found themselves alone again, and she was running one last scan and checking a few of the monitors before calling it a night, he was by her side.

 

Felicity was standing, her red pumps discarded under the desks as she checked a few of the wires around the monitors after detecting a small issue with one of them earlier that evening.

 

He watched her intently, blue nails trailing along the cords as she found the one that had come lose and adjusted it with a triumphant smile.

 

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice low and taking that intimate tone he rarely used around anyone else.

 

She jumped slightly and whirled, her blonde hair whipping around her shoulders and brushing lightly against his chest. The sensation - even though the thin cotton of his t-shirt - caused his hands to curl into fists at his sides as a spark of something strong and primal spiraled through him. Images of her hair trailing against his bare skin as they came together tumbled through his head and he had to grit his teeth and push them away to focus on the blue of her eyes staring at him uncertainly.

 

He could tell by her face that she knew what he was going to ask and it hurt a bit to know she might not want to talk about this with him. But he had to ask. If she didn’t want to tell him, he’d respect her privacy. He just wanted her to know he was there - that he cared about her - all of her - past, present and future.

 

Swallowing at the thought of a future with her, he let his eyes trail over the soft golden strands that had worked their way from her ponytail in the events from the night. He knew she’d worked just as hard behind these computers as he, Sara and Diggle had out in the field. And, after the few times watching her out on missions, he had gotten a taste of what she went through listening to them on the comms every night, fearing for their safety.

 

When her eyes fell from his face to her feet and then back up to stare at a spot on his chest, he sighed.

 

“I told you I was going to ask, and I am,” he began, and then sighed wishing she would look at him again, “but you don’t have to tell me. I just want you to know that I’m here...that I want to help…”

 

She shifted her weight from one foot to another as her eyes finally flicked up to his, an unreadable expression in them.

 

“There’s nothing to really help with, Oliver,” she replied with a sigh. “It was a long time ago. It...It happened and now it’s just a part of my past.”

 

Her voice was tight and he could hear the tension that remembering this moment from her life caused. “Doesn’t mean it’s not important, but if you don’t want to talk about it…”

 

Oliver knew he couldn’t push her, not when he still had so many of his own secrets from his past that he hadn’t told anyone. He had no right to ask that of her, and so with one more look, he brushed the few loose strands of blonde hair from her face and tucked them behind her ear before turning to leave.

 

The ragged breath that left her lips almost made him rethink his decision and look back to see if there were some of the same emotions floating in her blue pools that he felt inside at the soft touch of his fingers to her skin. Instead, he closed his eyes and turned his body, ready to walk over to the salmon ladder and get in a workout before calling it a night despite the way his body still protested from the earlier mission and run-in with a few of the League.

 

Small fingers curled around his wrist, halting his movements. “Wait,” she half-whispered, and he paused for a beat before turning back towards her.

 

A flurry of emotions filled her normally bright eyes and he desperately wanted to know what had happened in her past to churn up those feelings.

 

He watched as she bit down on her bottom lip and then drew in a long breath. “I was eight,” she said finally, eyes flitting up to meet his as her hand tightened on his wrist before letting go completely. “It was just my mom and me, my dad wasn’t really around…”

 

Her eyes cut across his face as she wrapped her arms around her front as if putting up some barrier and, although, he knew it was a defense mechanism and wasn’t meant to be specifically aimed at him, it still left an empty feeling in his gut.

 

His fingers curled by his side, itching to reach out and link her fingers with his, keep her open to him instead of watching her close herself off.

 

Her eyes flew to his hands and he frowned as he saw her watch his fingers and the slight widening of her pupils at the action. Filing away the information for later, he shook those thoughts off as she cleared her throat to continue.

 

“It was supposed to be a simple Saturday morning shopping trip - stop at the bank, go to the grocery store, possibly a stop at my favorite ice cream place on the way home,” the small wistful smile that twisted her lips upwards made his chest tighten as she got lost in childhood memories.

 

He saw the moment they shifted from happy to darker ones. Felicity’s face grew hard, lines deepening in her forehead and her lips twisting into a frown.

 

“We never made it past the bank that morning,” she went on softly, with little emotion. “I was with my mom in line when the next thing I knew there were gunshots and men in masks and threats being yelled across the lobby. Hands grabbed me away from my mom, and I kicked and screamed but I couldn’t get back to her. They separated all the children from the group,” she explained and he saw the shudder that shook her small frame.

 

He didn’t hesitate, his hand reached out and grasped one of her hands that was folded across her front. It took a little effort to pry her fingers from her own arm, but then it was as if he was a lifeline she had to hang onto or drown. Her fingers wrapped around his and clung to them tightly.

 

Felicity gave him an appreciative look, and her eyes fell to their linked hands as she continued, her thumb absentmindedly trailing patterns across his knuckles.

 

“The last time I saw my mom that day she was being shoved into a bank vault with the rest of the adults,” her voice cracked as she replayed the events in her head, those moments imprinted on her mind despite the years that separated her from that time. “There were five of us - five kids - and I was one of the oldest…they wanted me to keep the others quiet, but we were all terrified...”

 

Her voice trailed off, and he saw her getting lost in her memories, his heart aching that she’d had to go through something of that nature, especially as a child.

 

“She was all I had, Oliver,” she finally whispered. “My father...he’d left a few years earlier. He threatened to take me with him a few times but never did. That’s why I got into computers. It was easier to hide from the fights that happened behind a computer screen before he left. I was only eight but there was something familiar and comforting about a machine that I could take apart piece by piece and put back together again even if I couldn’t put back together my parents or my family.”

 

She blinked and he saw the tears she was holding back, refusing to let them fall and he felt his heart twist in his chest.

 

His fingers squeezed hers and her eyes found his at the small offer of comfort.

 

All of this was new to him. He’d never learned anything about her childhood from all his background checks and his conversations with her. The only thing that had popped up were her parents names, but nothing about her actual childhood. The guilt at never having asked about her past, about the times and events that made her who she is weighed heavily on him. For everything she had done for him, for the days and nights she’d spent by his side, saving his life, helping him in this mission, he’d never taken the time to learn more about what made her who she was. It was something he realized he would be better about in the future. Because as she opened up - as he watched her now, talking about her past and the times that made her into the woman she is today - he found he wanted to know all of it; every story, every moment, every heartbreak that put her on the path she ended up on and brought her into his life.

 

“Anyway,” she continued, shaking her head, and it brought him back to the present. “It was hours. Demand after demand. Finally they let the kids go but they kept everyone else and the police tried to take me away from the scene but I had no where to go...no one to call…”

 

Oliver saw her swallow as she grasped his hand tighter and he wondered if she realized she was doing it.

 

“When there were gunshots…” her voice trailed off and she blinked back tears, a stray one falling down her cheeks as she shook her head unable to continued that sentence. “My mom was hit by one of the bullets. By the end of the day, I was sitting in a hospital room with people trying to take me away from my mom because she couldn’t take care of me for a few weeks until she healed…”

 

The breath rushed out of Oliver’s lungs as he watched her try and fail to hold back her tears. 

 

“I was eight and terrified I was never going to see my mother again and then they were taking me away and…”

 

A sob tore from her throat along with a soft apology as she let her head fall forward.

 

Oliver placed his other hand on her shoulder and tugged her into him. She came easily, crashing against his body, face pressed over her heart, head tucked beneath his chin. Their fingers released and hers wound around his waist as he let one of his drift through her hair while the other banded across her back and pulled her close to him as he could get her.

 

Her muffled apology came after a few minutes of shaking shoulders and tears soaking into his cotton t-shirt.

 

He shushed her, his lips against her hair near the shell of her ear.

 

When she finally pulled back, he was reluctant to let her go - the feeling of her in his arms so right despite the circumstances. He knew he would never get tired of holding her close to him. Never get tired of feeling the soft curves of her body pressed against the hard planes of his own. Never get over the peace that filled him when she was in his arms. Never get over the realization he’d had after the first time she’d hugged him that he yearned to fall asleep with her in his arms and wake to her every morning.

 

She scrubbed a hand under her eyes and glanced up at him, offering him a small smile of thanks. He returned the gesture, fingers reaching out and wiping away the last tear track that she’d missed.

 

The soft puff of air that left her lips caused his stomach to tighten and he watched as her eyes followed his hand as it returned to his side.

 

“Thank you,” she murmured, twisting her now free hands together in front of her.

 

He nodded, giving her a look that he knew she would understand. Anytime. Whenever she needed him, he’d be there. It was something he’d slowly realized over the months of working with her. Felicity Smoak was someone he wanted and needed in his life, and all she had to do was ask him and he’d do it. 

 

He waited while she gathered her thoughts and he saw her mind working, remembering where she was in her story. “She was released from the hospital five days later and I was returned to her. But those were some of the longest days of my life...and some of my scariest as a child.”

 

She drew in a deep breath, her eyes lifting up and trailing over his face and he could tell she was debating on whether or not to say something. He tilted his head to the side, wondering what she was hesitant to say.

 

Her bottom lip was pulled into her mouth, worried between her teeth before she finally made up her mind.

 

“I don’t really have any family anymore,” Felicity stated quietly, and this was something Oliver had learned through his background searches. He just hadn’t heard her story of it yet. “And I missed that - for so long. That feeling of belonging somewhere...and then you walked into my office, or really, showed up in the backseat of my car bleeding,” she added with a knowing look.

 

Despite her attempt to lighten her words, his breath caught in his throat at her implication.

 

“You guys - you and Digg - you are my family now,” she whispered, eyes roving from his face around the Foundry and back to his eyes as she took in everything. “Roy and Sara are getting there too,” she added with a small smile. “But you two are so important to me. I...I want you to know that.”

 

Oliver breathed in deeply through his nose, his jaw tight as he let her words wash over him. The fact that she considered him - this team - a family hit very close to home. He would be lying if he’d never thought of them in that capacity himself. 

 

Of course, he had a blood family. His mother and Thea - they were always going to be his family. But there was so much they didn’t know - so much he had to hide from them. 

 

With Felicity and Diggle, he didn’t have to wear mask after mask around them. He could be himself - as damaged and messed up as that was at times. As brooding and annoying and ridiculously stubborn as he knew he could be - they still hadn't left. They’d even come after him; found him on the island and flown there to bring him back. 

 

If he didn’t see them, he missed them. And as much as Diggle was a brother to him, Felicity was far from a sister. She was more. She was something so vital and important that he didn’t realize how much he needed and wanted her in his life until she was there. It was part of the reason he kept going back to her even before she knew his secret identity. He’d known Diggle had seen it, even though he never said anything. There was something about Felicity Smoak that made him feel alive again; that made him want to live and have a future and that was more than he ever thought possible after those five years. Five years where nothing good happened. 

 

So much darkness surrounded him and then she was there with her bright colors and blue eyes and reassuring smile. Her calm presence and rambles that somehow managed to put him at ease while at the same time lifting the weight on his chest that constantly seemed to make it hard to breath.

 

He breathed easier around her.

 

And this is why he told himself he pulled her in for a second hug, taking her off guard but feeling her melt into him the moment she was wrapped securely in his embrace. Her hands came up and rested over his shoulder blades, fingers pressing into his skin trying to bring him closer as his own arms encompassed her entire frame. He buried his face against her hair and breathed in deeply, letting everything Felicity surround him. 

 

When he felt her do the same, the feeling of love blossomed in his chest and he knew one of these days it would all come pouring out to her.

 

For now, he let himself revel in the feeling of having her in his arms; of having someone cherish him and the place he had in her life despite what she knew about him. None of that seemed to matter to her. She looked at him and saw a person he strived to be - the hero he didn’t know he could be until she kept believing in him.

 

He pulled back far enough to press a kiss against her temple and heard her sigh softly at the contact, and he knew if he could see her face, there would be a smile there that mirrored his own.


End file.
